


A Watery Grave

by Jazoriah



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Loyalty, Protectiveness, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazoriah/pseuds/Jazoriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin are trapped in a maze of tunnels beneath the ground, and the water is on its way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Watery Grave

The caves were dark, suffocating. Rocks jutted from the walls at discordant angles, giving the impression of teeth bearing down from all directions.

The two men plunged through the twisting corridors of stone, straining to see ahead by the flickering light of their last torch.

“Is there an opening?” shouted Merlin, leaping over a fallen stalactite.

“There has to be one somewhere!” growled Arthur.

Merlin panted, listening as the distant roaring became steadily louder. He shook his head, desperate.

“The knights got out, there _has_ to be a way!”

“We’ll find one, Merlin,” snapped Arthur. “Don’t be such a coward.”

Merlin held his tongue, opting to save his breath as his lungs seized in protest. There was no sign of the bandits they had tracked to the labyrinth of tunnels, but Merlin supposed they would be long gone by now.  The moment the hidden thieves had realised they were compromised, the entire group – and it had been a large one – had fled to the surface and set off a massive explosion underground. The entire network of caves had been shaken, and now it was with desperate feet that the prince and his manservant fled through the tunnels, dodging a steady barrage of fallen rocks.

Merlin strained to see any light up ahead that might indicate a way out. It was a miracle the two hadn’t been crushed already, but both new their luck could not last much longer.  The rumble from behind picked up in volume, heralding the tsunami of water that had been redirected by the explosion. The crushing cold could not be more than a few minutes away.

Merlin tripped on a stone and pelted to the ground, cursing as Arthur swiveled mid-stride and hauled him to his feet, pushing him relentlessly onwards. For the thousandth time the warlock cursed his fickle magic, subdued by the rare crystal that permeated the stone walls. No doubt that was why the bandits had chosen this place. Not even magic could track them here. Whatever they were planning, it was big.

A sharp crack sounded from above the two boys and a cascade of rock plummeted towards their unprotected heads. Arthur, always the quickest to react, bellowed a warning and lunged at his friend. He pulled him out from the path of the debris and sent them both sprawling, pebbles showering around their prone forms. Rocks groaned and shattered around them, finally stilling to leave a dark, dusty silence punctuated only by the gasps of the two men and the now slightly louder thunder of the oncoming flood.

Merlin coughed, pushing himself to his elbows and looking across to his companion.

“Thanks,” he said, short and without ceremony, as though he were used to the prince saving his life.

“No problem,” said Arthur, equally perfunctory, and he blinked through the dust.

The way ahead was completely sealed.

Arthur cursed, struggling to the new rock wall and tearing at the debris with bloody fingers. Merlin searched around him for the torch, meaning to help Arthur’s battle with the solid stone, but it had been buried when the two dodged the downfall.

Merlin blinked.

It had been buried…

“Arthur,” he called, to which Arthur grunted, not turning around.

“The torch is gone,” he continued.

Arthur paused. He turned to look at him with incredulity, silently asking how that could possibly matter at a time like this.

Merlin bit his lip in barely controlled hope.

“So how can we still see?”

Arthur’s eyes widened in realisation, immediately roving the rock walls and ceiling to find where the light was coming from.

Merlin almost squealed with excitement. “There!” he yelped, pointing to a ledge on the wall to their left, nearly fifty feet above their heads. Light was spilling over the precipice from what must be an opening forged by the rock fall. Arthur followed Merlin’s line of sight and huffed in relief, immediately moving to the sheer rock face and beginning to climb. However, he was barely ten feet up before the stone slid from beneath him and sent him sprawling on the hard floor. Cursing, he forced himself to his feet despite the aching bruises and began again. Within five seconds, the same thing happened and Arthur lay winded and furious at the feet of his desperate manservant. This time, the disturbance let loose a small avalanche of debris from further up the ledge. Only Arthur’s well-honed reflexes saved him from being crushed.

“It can’t support our weight…” whispered Merlin in horrified realisation. “The rock is too unstable.”

The groaning of the stone wall finally ceased, leaving only the sound of the water’s approach thundering in the ears of the condemned men.

Arthur growled.

“No,” he spat, clenching his fists in determination and denial. “This can’t happen. Not when we’re so close.”

He darted forward, running his fingers over the stone, analyzing and searching for a stable path.

Merlin moved to join him, but was distracted from the search by a faint warmth in his chest. He looked down, touching the area above his heart. The feeling was barely noticeable, a soft sort of tingle that would be easy to overlook unless it was familiar.

And this was a feeling Merlin had known his whole life.

His magic was returning.

His lips pulled into a slightly hysterical grin as he turned his gaze to the light spilling into the cave – the light that marked a breach in the underground prison confining his magic. Merlin breathed. The magical energy was slowly filling him up, but it was weak. The crystal still dampened most of his abilities. He definitely could not stop the flood, nor rearrange the cave. He doubted he could even sustain a fire at this rate.

Arthur swore, punching the rock and watching with morbid satisfaction as the wall shuddered, threatening to collapse on them.

Merlin looked to Arthur, then to the light spilling overhead. He stared down the pitch dark tunnel they had come through, noticing that the ominous howl seemed almost upon them.

“Is there a reason you’re standing there like a useless mannequin, Merlin?” Arthur tossed over his shoulder, trying and failing to keep the weariness out of his voice.

Merlin closed his eyes. There was a chance, _the tiniest chance_ , that he might still be able to make this okay.

He pressed his lips together and thought of the arrogant, courageous, talented, _stupid_ man in front of him, and tears threatened to spill on his dirt-caked cheeks.

“Arthur,” he said, his voice low.

“Yes Merlin?” replied Arthur, his gaze now drawn to the abyss they had come from.

“We can’t climb the rock,” stated Merlin, following Arthur’s gaze.

Arthur sighed in resignation.

“No, Merlin. I don’t think we can.”

Merlin nodded, taking a deep breath, but before he could say anything more, Arthur continued.

“Well, if these are my last moments, I can think of worse people to spend them with,” he said, his voice tight, but resigned.

Merlin smiled sadly.

“That’s a sweet sentiment, but I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

Arthur finally tore his eyes from the dark tunnel, turning to his friend in confusion.

“What?”

“Your last moments will be so much better than this. You’ll fall in a ludicrously dramatic blaze of glory defending Camelot, or when you’re old with Gwen by your side, holding your hand.”

Arthur furrowed his brow.

“It’s a lovely thought, Merlin, but I don’t think there’s much chance of that now.”

Merlin shook his head, tears trailing down his cheeks. Arthur, not entirely sure what was happening to his friend, put a comforting had on his shoulder, but Merlin pushed it aside and embraced him, all pride long since dead.

“I can only do this once,” he said, voice sad but urgent, “so, once you’re up, you need to move fast or you’ll fall again.”

“Merlin, what…” began Arthur, but Merlin cut him off.

“I am so sorry Arthur,” he said, voice rising as the noise of the water swelled around them.

“What for?” asked the prince.

Merlin looked into his eyes and readied himself for his final act of destiny.

“For not having the courage to tell you myself.”

Arthur opened his mouth to ask, but before he could speak Merlin’s eyes flashed golden and Arthur was lifted bodily into the air. Gasping, the man twisted in the grip of Merlin’s spell, shocked at the boy’s long kept secret and desperate to escape the grip that had trapped him.

Arthur soared higher into the air, approaching the ledge as the unstable rock face glided past behind him. Only then did the prince realise what the lying manservant was doing.

Merlin was bringing him to safety.

He could make it!

He would live!

His relief at the prospect of escape flooded his bodily, until part of what Merlin had said penetrated his mind, jarring him from his euphoria.

_I can only do this once_.

A shocked gasp escaped the frightened prince and his gaze snapped to his erstwhile manservant. The man who had lied to him for years, who had abused his trust, and was now forcing Arthur to take the only escape route while he himself stayed behind.

Merlin’s hand was directed at Arthur, channeling the magic glowing in his eyes while the rest of him seemed almost doubled over with the effort. Merlin’s face was pinched in pain, but his eyes never left his friend.

“Merlin!” screamed Arthur, writhing in the air, trying to get back to the man below.

Merlin shook his head, smiling softly at him and pushing even harder with the magic. Arthur shot the last few feet and landed with a soft thud on the ledge.  Through the large hole rent in the rock he could see the ocean spilling over the horizon, seagulls gliding over the serene beach.

The sight called to him, but he scrambled back to the edge of the rock face, looking down into the dark pit.

Merlin stood exactly where he had been. His eyes were still glowing, and with trepidation Arthur reached a hand over the edge of the rock, finding the magical barrier he knew would be there.

Even with Arthur levitated to safety, Merlin was taking no chances.

Arthur felt fury explode within his chest and he beat the barrier with his fists.

“You IDIOT!” he bellowed. “You stupid, magical, _useless_ MORON! Get up here now! You flew me up, now do it again!”

Arthur’s words were lost in the deafening roar of the approaching water. Merlin watched him sadly.

“ _DO IT AGAIN, MERLIN!_ ” screamed Arthur, feeling the bones in his hand splintering as he pounded on the invisible wall.

Merlin blinked at the tears spilling from his eyes. He finally broke Arthur’s gaze, turning to the dark tunnel. His fatigue was obvious, as he used the last vestiges of his strength to hold Arthur away from danger. If the prince fell now, not even Merlin could lift him again.

The sound of the deluge grew to such a din that Merlin thought his ears might burst.

He took one last look at Arthur, and closed his eyes.

Arthur’s entire body went stone cold as he saw his best friend consign himself to his fate.

With an almighty roar a poisonous deluge of black crashed into the cave and swallowed the tiny speck of warlock.

“ _MERLIN_!” screamed Arthur, desperation clawing at his chest. The barrier finally gave way, and Arthur pitched forward, only just catching himself in time to halt his tumble into the frozen depths.

The wall of water hit the far wall, and the rocks that had halted the men’s passage were thrown aside like so much garbage and carried away down the tunnel. The dark surface of the water churned, rising up the fragile rock face and closing in on the still frozen Arthur. It was not until a wave of water shot over the ledge that the prince finally realised the danger he was in.

Arthur scrambled backwards, drenched and gasping, and lunged for the hole in the rock. He let out one agonized war cry and tore into the open air, leaping to higher ground as the pursuing water erupted from the cave. It spilled over the dry ground, seemingly disappointed at losing its prey.

Arthur turned and watched the flood carve its way through the sand, simply standing and panting while his heart fluttered in his chest.  The prince blinked dumbly, his mind filled with a flat wooshing noise that drowned out all else.

Very slowly, Prince Arthur took a single step back, then another. And another.  His breathing sped up as he began a desperate scramble to get back, get away. Had to get away. _Get away now!_

His foot caught on a piece of broken wood and he tumbled backwards, landing with a thud on his sore back, and forcing the wind from his abused lungs.

For a moment he could not breathe, choking at the air. His chest was on fire. His head was pounding.

Merlin was dead.

He shook his head. That wasn’t real, it couldn’t happen. Arthur’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion and denial. It hadn’t…

Merlin was dead.

His throat was not working properly. He tried to breathe, tried to speak, but all he could think of was the ice cold dagger sliding between his ribs. His heart seized.

_Merlin was_ _dead_.

As reality finally came crashing down on the poor, beaten prince, he let out a howl of agony that pierced the sky and left it cold.

Arthur did not move for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a rather unhealthy love for tragedy.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed (though that would imply you are as awful to your characters as me), and that you love their friendship as much as I do. It's a beautiful thing to write.


End file.
